


You might get hurt if you don't keep it hid

by Dontthrowsticksatme (dontthrowsticksatme)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Family, High School, Love, M/M, Teens, Violence, criminals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:50:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5129981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontthrowsticksatme/pseuds/Dontthrowsticksatme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas starts at a new school: St Brutus’s Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys. He knows he really belongs there, but finds it hard to fit in. St. Brutus is ruled by two brothers: the Winchesters, who terrorize other people in general, and each other in particular.  They have a very difficult relationship, after leading a troubled life together. Then Cas meets Dean Winchester, and everything changes...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

His hands were full, but nobody opened the door for him. He wasn’t used to kindness, so he wasn’t expecting it, but it was still a tough way to enter his new home: St Brutus’s Secure Centre for Incurably Criminal Boys.

Saint Brutus didn’t even exist, Cas looked it up. Nobody watched over Incurably Criminal Boys… It wasn’t a prison, but it wasn’t a normal school either. There were guards that kept a close eye on you and could lock you up in your room as punishment, but the students were allowed to go out and even run away if they wanted to. But where could they run to? For most of the guys there, St. Brutus was the last place they were allowed to be. And Cas deserved to be there, no question about that.

With a sigh he heaved his bag further on his shoulder and managed to balance the box that contained to rest of his possessions on one arm. Right then the door swang open and a big kid bumped into him with the force of a bus. Cas fell over. The box broke open and all of his stuff rolled over the steps of the stairs.

‘Moron! What are you doing in front of the freakin’ door?!’ the boy yelled. ‘You’re lucky I’m not allowed to wear my knife…’ He stomped off, not at all bothered by Cas’ life laying around. His heavy army boots broke the alarm clock.

Cas felt like just staying there, on the ground, lying down on the tiles. But he told himself he couldn’t, because more incurably criminal boys could come out of that door. One of them could not be needing a knife. With a deep sigh Cas gathered his stuff, kicked the door open and walked up to his room, where he was greeted with another warm welcome.

‘Aah, fúck!’ The blonde boy sitting in Cas’s new room stared accusatory at him. ‘Thought I had a room for myself.’

‘Sorry,’ mumbled Cas.

‘Why are you here now? It’s bloody October,’ whined the boy.

‘I was in jail until now.’

‘How long did they lock you up?’

‘Few years…’ Cas didn’t feel like talking about it much. Especially not with someone who wasn’t even nice to him.

The boy whistled. He looked at Cas with a new kind of appreciation. ‘You’re a real one… I got out in a month or so.’

Cas nodded, not interested. He looked around, wondering how he could make this empty, grey square a bit more homelike. Meanwhile, the blonde kid circled around him like a vulture.

‘I’m Nick,’ he said quietly. ‘And I like fire. I like fire a lot.’

Cas shivered a little. How could someone make five words sound so scary?

He sank on his bed and felt completely miserable. How in the name of Saint Brutus was he going to survive here?

 ...

For Dean it was a day like every other day: people avoided him like the plague. Dean was a loner, by choice. Wherever he went the crowd created a large circle around him, because he needed a lot of personal space and everybody knew it. It didn’t take long to accomplish this. From the first day he got in St. Brutus, he fought his way through the crowd like a hurricane. When someone came too near for his liking, he beat them. He beat people anyway really, didn’t matter much what they did: touch him, bump into him, make too much noise, whispered, looked at him, didn’t look at him. He hit them all. Dean terrorized every single one of his fellow students and quickly became the most feared presence in St. Brutus.

Until his brother arrived.

Sam was fourteen years old, but tall. Taller than his four years older brother, and way more frightening, if you asked Dean. Sam was unpredictable and viciously mean. He didn’t care about honor or playing it by the rules. Growing up with a dominant brother like Dean made him find alternative ways to win. It was probably the biggest secret Dean had, but he didn’t fear anyone as much as his ickle baby brother. ‘I created a monster,’ Dean found himself thinking whenever he saw Sam and his posse move around. Sam’s henchmen changed every once in a while, as if Sam was continuously testing his friends and switching them for someone more loyal – or more mindless. For some reason though, it made Dean proud to see how much in control Sammy was of what he did. Having a brother remained a confusing business for him.

Dean didn’t like talking about it, but he had a rough childhood. When his parents died in a fire, Dean was four. Sam was hardly born when their parents died and Dean always felt like his brother didn’t care a bit about them. How could he? He never met them. But what was worse: he felt it was Sam’s fault they died in the first place. If he hadn’t still been in that stupid nursery, they would all have gotten out in time. The room wouldn’t have collapsed before his mum could get out. His dad wouldn’t have pushed Sam in Dean’s arms to help her get out. The house wouldn’t have swallowed both of them before Dean could even reach the garden fence. It would all have been a nightmare, instead of a flashback that woke Dean up in the middle of the night, sweating and screaming.

It was a good thing Dean had a really easy roommate. Leo didn’t mind his night terrors or the screams that went with them. Leo was a dark-skinned guy who never really said anything. The only thing he’d ever said was his name. After that word Dean never heard him speak again. Leo did sing though, really quietly, under the shower. Dean loved that to bits. He loved it when he woke up to his roommate singing Traveling Riverside Blues or Goodbye stranger.

Wait, why was he thinking about Leo?

Anyway…

Sam had always been a pain in the ass to look after. When he was little he liked to chew on stuff, preferably things he could suffocate in. Then when he could walk, he liked to climb on high things, walls or sheds where he could easily fall off of and die. Later, he liked to make fires and play with fireworks. He was a downright terrorist with explosives. He could have lost his freaking arms if it wasn’t for Dean. Dean felt so frustrated that he hit him a lot to make him stop doing all those dangerous things. Sam never listened.

Of course, Sam was really little at the time and couldn’t defend himself very well against a four years older brother, but Dean didn’t really see that back then. He only saw danger and no other way to prevent Sam from hurting himself. Of course, all those things Sam did were normal activities for boys his age, Dean realized now. But he could have died. Easily. Everyone could easily die, any moment, without warning.

 ...

Sam felt like an army leader, making his troupes ready for battle. Every fight he won, lead him closer to his end goal: beating his brother. Getting his revenge, hurting him as much as he’d hurt Sam during his life. Sam was better than Dean, he really was: Dean was just strength and boldness. He wasn’t clever, like Sam. He never thought things through. Sam did. Strength went only so far, but weapons, allies and fighting techniques went somewhere else entirely.

When he was ten Sam decided to stop taking his brother’s beatings. He began to defend himself. And now he had a posse, as he liked to call it. His own force, build up by blackmail, threats and bribes: the strongest building blocks of friendship you could find amongst criminals. Now, his entourage was more scared of Sam than they were of Dean – and that was just what he needed.

It was time for a new exercise… Who to pick today?

 ...

The school had a large fence surrounding the grounds, but what the direction didn’t know was that there was a hole in it, behind which lay a patch of grass, enclosed on two sides by trees and on one side by the walls of the gymnasium. It was probably the most private spot in the whole institute. That patch of grass was where most conflicts were settled. Dean liked to just stroll through it during breaks from class to see who was winning.

Today Sammy was fighting again, strengthened by all his pals. What a fair fight it was... Dean sighed. Annoying, pathetic, little Sam...

He was just about to turn his back to the scene when something irregular happened. A small kid stepped between Sam’s squad and their poor victim.

‘Stop it,’ he said. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was remarkably deep for such an insignificant looking boy. Dean got closer.

Who was that? The boy didn’t look like he belonged at St. Brutus at all. If you asked Dean, he looked more like some sort of a lost angel, with large, sad eyes and a pondering expression. His clothes seemed to be years old and worn intensively. But there was something about him that kept Dean staring at him. The boy radiated determination.

The guy he was defending quickly got up and ran away. The weird looking boy watched him go with a bit of a betrayed look on his face, but he didn’t move.

‘Three against one is not a fair fight,’ he declared, in that same low voice, his eyes fixed on Sam’s.

Sam didn’t care. He laughed and gestured with his head so his two friends jumped on the new guy. Sam waited until they had the boy in a firm grip, then he clenched his fists. Sam was about five inches taller than that new boy.

‘Sammy!’ Dean heard himself call before he knew it.

Sam whirled round at once, looking angrier than ever.

‘Let the kid go. We all know he doesn’t stand a chance.’

‘Go away, Dean.’

‘Shorty here’s got a point.’ Dean got even closer. ‘Why do you always need people to help you, Sammy? Can’t handle it alone? Too weak?’

Sam’s fist soared through the air, but Dean just grabbed it and turned Sam’s arm on his back.

‘Don’t try to hit me,’ he said. ‘I’m your brother. Now, let the new kid go. Now.’

‘Dean!’ Sam growled. He trembled with anger. ‘I’m gonna kill you.’

Dean moved Sam’s arm even higher up his back. He hated it when Sam disrespected him.

Sam groaned in pain and vaguely nodded at his companions. They immediately let the shabby boy go and moved to Dean in a way that was supposed to look threatening.

‘Beat it, buddy,’ Dean told the fun sized hero, but the kid still wouldn’t move. Dean would’ve laughed if he wasn’t such a sullen guy. As if Dean needed help from anyone looking as worn out as that new guy. Shaking his head, he pushed his two attackers aside and walked away. Behind him he heard Sam mumble something and they too walked off.

What Dean hadn’t expected was that the new boy caught up with him. ‘Thank you...’ he said in a humble voice. ‘I’m Cas.’

‘Good for you! Now get lost.’

 ...

Cas stood still. Get lost? He thought he made a friend.

Maybe Cas wanted a friend so badly his judgement was fogged. Maybe life in St. Brutus was going to be exactly like life in prison… He sighed. For just one moment he thought he finally found an ally. Cas didn’t like unfair fights. He refused to watch as three people beat up one innocent person. He would hate to know he saw it happen and did nothing. How could he even live in a world where people just let such injustice go, carelessly?! He had assumed that sturdy older guy had the same idea – but perhaps he was wrong.

Wait… didn’t that guy say he was the tall guy’s brother? If so, his roommate Nick might have said something about them. Nick told him about two brothers who were both locked up in St. Brutus and who scared the hell out of everyone. One of them was really tall and had a gang, the other one was a hostile, lone wolf. If the tall boy was Sam, than the well-built guy must’ve been Dean.

Had Cas just accidentally met the Winchesters?

No, Nick said Dean was a force to be reckoned with around here, but the guy who saved him hadn’t made that impression on Cas. Cas found Dean very friendly. He couldn’t imagine him being the way Nick described him. Just now, he helped Cas out. Dean was the only one who did that – in years.

Maybe Dean wasn’t nice to Nick, because Nick wasn’t nice to Dean. He probably was a good guy though. Nick talked a lot, especially about stuff he thought would creep Cas out. Maybe what he said about Dean wasn’t even true. He could have been trying to frighten Cas – in vain. Things didn’t scare him much anymore. After what happened, the only thing he feared was himself.

 ...

Sam was furious. He hated his brother with every bit of his soul. Dean humiliated him in front of everyone – again! What would his friends think of him now?

He needed a plan. A solid, fool-proof plan that even Dean couldn’t fight himself out of.

While he was brooding on something good, it seemed that his friends tried to get his attention, but he wasn’t in the mood to calmly talk shit about his classmates, or brag about made up stuff. His life was fucked up, he never did anything worth bragging about. If you believed his stories it’d be a miracle if he didn’t have the full bingo of STI’s, although he hardly ever met a girl. The only thing he ever did was argue and fight with his brother, and move around from foster home to orphanage, and from community service to custody. Nobody wanted him or Dean, and they both had a knack for getting in trouble. They didn’t care, that was the main problem. Others would try their best to get away with their small crimes, but why would the Winchesters? They had nothing at all to lose.

Not that they were that criminal though. Sam just liked having things he couldn't afford and Dean was really easily pissed off and couldn’t articulate any of his messed-up feelings. He could only fight. God, Sam hated him. He used to try so hard to relate to his brother, but nothing worked. Dean only got mad at Sam. ‘You don’t understand jack squat, Sam! You didn’t even know them!’ he would yell. ‘You can’t even remember them!’

Sam sighed. It was true, but the fact that he couldn’t remember his parents made him only feel worse. It didn’t mean he didn’t miss them. When he looked at the families other people had, the homes they went to when they got off the bus, it hurt him like a flesh wound.

When he was little, he used to wish he could talk to Dean about all this. He wanted his brother to tell him about their parents and hoped they could be a family, just with the two of them. He would try to find or make a home with Dean… but it never worked. Dean never gave him a chance. Now it was too late. Now, Sam was too angry with his brother to give him a chance, even if Dean wanted him to. He just wanted revenge. If only there was something to manipulate him with, that was the only way he could ever stand a chance.

He just needed to be patient…

 ...

Dean felt a little strange. He caught himself thinking about the Cas-boy a lot after he’d seen him stepping in front of that guy. It’d been such a weird thing to do. He was smaller than the guy he was defending, so how could Cas help? Was he tired of life? Did he get a kick out of pain? Or was he really that selfless, or stupid, to think he could help?

Dean couldn’t figure it out. He caught himself wondering if the boy was okay. Cas just seemed too reckless for his own good, playing the hero. What if he tried to defend more people? He didn’t stand a chance against anyone in this school, not even the little ones. And Sam would probably fight him again as soon as he saw him.

What was the boy doing here anyway? It couldn’t have been anything but a mistake. Someone like Cas couldn’t have done something so terrible he ended up here? This place was dangerous for innocent people like him. Maybe Dean should–…

No. Dean shouldn’t do anything. Bug off. Why would he care what happened?

He wouldn’t. He didn’t care. Not a bit.

Not a bit.

 ...

Cas had his locker on the opposite side of Dean’s. Every day Dean saw him get his books and everyday he saw his face get a little more gashed: his eyebrows torn, his lips bloody, his eyes black and blue. One day his head was all wet, though it didn’t rain. Another day he smelled a lot like piss. And every day his movements were a little stiffer and the look in his droopy eyes a little more hurt. 

It pained Dean. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he had to. He felt terrible. As if he was the wounded one, not Cas. He hated how much he cared. Why would he? How the guy could still walk around with his head held high and that same determined look on his face. Somehow, it forced Dean to respect him. 

Dean didn’t know what to do. He only knew he couldn’t stand this. Especially his own confusion and pain about some unknown kid, freaking annoyed him.

One day Cas walked in with a limp and Dean felt the urge to immediately jump up and support him and to kick the person who hurt him to hell. That urge freaked him out so badly he decided he needed to act. So in a haze of fury he wrote a note, saying: ‘You need to leave,’ and he pushed it under the door of Cas’ locker.

 ...

After days of being bullied and beaten, this was the worst thing that happened to Cas: there was a note in his locker, saying he needed to leave. But he couldn’t leave. He wanted to so badly, ever since he came in here, but there was no way he could. There was nowhere he could go. Panic started to rise up in his chest. What would they do to him if he didn’t leave? Would they finally kill him? Would it hurt?

What could he do? Should he go to a teacher or the police? Wouldn’t that make everything worse? His fellow students had no mercy and could always – always – find ways to hurt Cas if they wanted to. They would never accept him telling on them.

This was a disaster. He was going to die. Who could he turn to for help?

 ...

A hand on his arm made Dean jump and hit back.

‘Ouch,’ said a timid voice.

Dean instantly regretted his stupid reflex. ‘Oh, sorry, Cas.’

Whát? What did he just say? “Sorry”? Did he just say sorry? Cás was the one touching him! Dean quickly straightened his back. ‘You shouldn’t sneak up on people, you son of a bitch.’

‘Sorry, Dean. Can I talk to you?’

Cas looked scared. After all that had happened to him, never did Dean see him scared. It worried him.

‘Er, okay… what’s up?’

Cas walked off, looking nervously around. Dean reluctantly strolled after him with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. On the stairs in front of the school Cas sat down. A little uncomfortable Dean sat down next to him. He checked if no one was around to see them. He didn’t see anyone who mattered. ‘What?’

‘Dean, I…’

Cas handed him something. Dean recognized his own note and cursed in silence. Did his own note have something to do with the terrified look on Cas' face?

‘They say I need to leave,’ Cas whispered. ‘But I have nowhere else to go, Dean. I’m a monster, no one wants me.’

‘Bullshit,’ replied Dean. ‘You could go anywhere you want to go. A normal high school! It’s not like you’re doing so great here anyway. Look at you. You look like crap.’

‘Believe me, Dean, I can’t go anywhere else... Do you think it’s Sam? I hate them, he’s awful.’

‘Shut up! That’s my brother you’re talking about!’

Cas jumped. ‘Sorry.’

Dean wished Cas just went away. Preferably to another school – a safe one.

Cas didn’t go. He started talking again. ‘What do you think they’d do to me if I don’t leave?’

Dean groaned. He felt bad. ‘Nothing, man. It’s just a threat. Don’t worry about it.’

‘But…’

‘Quit it. It’s nothing. Just try to keep your head down. Stop trying to save everyone. You never even win.’

Cas kept staring at the note. His eyelashes lay thick and dark on his cheekbones.

Dean sighed. He felt a little soupy.

Suddenly Cas looked up. His big eyes hooked in Dean’s and it struck him how blue they were. He never noticed. They looked like the wind, he caught himself thinking, if the wind had a color.

Oh, my god, whát?

‘If you helped me...’ Cas said.

‘No.’ Dean was really done with the weird shit that happened to him every time Cas was near him, and got up.

‘Please, Dean!’

‘What?!’

‘They’ll kill me.’

‘No, they won’t.’

‘How do you know? Those–…!’

Dean couldn’t take it anymore. ‘Because I wrote the freaking note! Okay? Now cut it out.’

Cas looked up at him, astonished and betrayed. It made Dean sit down again. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t–, you’re–…’ He realized he was sitting really close to Cas. Quickly he moved back. ‘I mean…’ He cleared his throat and toughened up. ‘You need to leave. You’re too weak for this place. It’s dangerous here for a scrawny kid like you.’

‘I’m not scrawny. I’m deadly.’

Dean looked at the little dork sitting next to him and couldn’t help but smile. ‘Trust me. If you don’t find a way to get out of here you’ll be dead in a month.’

Strangely, this didn’t calm Cas one bit. His hands disappeared into his dark hair. Dean pulled one of them out again, so he could see his face.

‘Look, I can’t protect your pretty ass all the time. And no one can help you if you keep thrówing yourself at all those sons of bitches.’

Cas didn’t react. He stared at his hand and Dean realized he was still holding it. He threw it into Cas’ lap. Now he was really pissed.

‘Stand up for yourself then, if you’re so “deadly”.’ Dean got up and stamped through the door.

Safely inside, he took a deep breath. He was never ever going to come near that guy again.

 ...

Outside, Cas was still sitting on the front steps, his face covered in his hands. This was great, just great. Now Cas was in love.

With the most terrifying human being he ever met.

But how could he not? With eyes like Dean’s and jaws and hands and muscles and words like Dean’s. Why did he have to be so nice to him? Why did he have to look at him like that? Why did he have to hold his hand?

Boy, was Cas doomed.


	2. Chapter 2

‘You can run, you can run,’ sang Leo in the shower, ‘tell my friend Willie Brown…’

With a long, sleepy moan Dean turned around in his bed. Just one more minute…

‘That I'm standin' at the crossroad… I believe I'm sinkin' down.’

Leo’s voice drifted away into an obscure dream...

Of course, Dean overslept. It wasn’t a minute, it never was. Breakfast was over and he had to run. Of course he didn’t. Why run? His life was a mess anyway. One more missed class didn’t change an awful lot anymore.

He was still yawning when he strolled over to the school. Then he noticed a bunch of rags against to the wall, that usually wasn’t there.

Or were they rags? He recognized that old-man’s raincoat and saw the hair poking out of it.

‘Dammit, Cas.’

He kneeled down next to the curled up body. ‘Cas? Buddy?’

Cas looked up, his hurting eyes widening. He got up at once. ‘Dean...’

Dean’s heart skipped a beat. The face of his little friend was just one big bloody mess. He even swayed a little, as if he was incredibly dizzy.

‘You okay there?’ he asked, stupidly. Of course he wasn’t.

‘Yes… I just didn’t feel like getting up. I’m okay.’

He sounded awfully weak.

‘Come on, jackass. Get up.’ Dean looked around, but he didn’t think anyone saw them. Luckily, there were no windows at this side of the building.

Instead of taking Cas into the school to get first aid, Dean took him to his own room. As soon as Cas saw a bed, he sank down on it. His clear blue eyes were closed. Somehow Dean didn’t like that. He grabbed his towel from the bathroom, drenched it in hot water and took a bottle of vodka from under the loose board in the floor. It was actually Leo’s, but to hell with that. He took a swig and put some on the towel. He pulled his arm around Cas’ shoulder to set him up straight.

‘Come here, buddy.’

Carefully he pressed his towel on Cas’ bloody eyebrow. The boy flinched a little and Dean apologized automatically. ‘You wanna go to the janitor or something?’

‘No. They’ll ask questions.’

Dean figured. He put one hand around Cas’ face to wash all the blood off his cheeks, nose, and chin. He took a little more time to wash his lips. They were particularly gashed, he told himself.

‘You need something cold for your eye,’ he thought out loud. ‘Wait.’ He took Leo’s towel from the bathroom floor too and soaked it in the coldest water he could get from the tap.

‘Hold this to your eye.’

Cas did what he was told. ‘Why are you doing this? You need to be in class.’

‘Shut up. Now your lip’s bleeding again.’

‘Sorry…’

‘You’re a pain in the ass, you know that? God, there’s even blood in your hair.’ Dean carefully tried to wash it out. ‘Did they break your head?’

Cas shook his head.

Man, the guy was battered. Dean felt sorry for his buddy. It must hurt, all the wounds he had. ‘Will you stop trying to fight them now?’ he asked, though it sounded more like begging.

Cas didn’t say anything.

‘Why?’ groaned Dean.

Cas just stared at him for a while before answering. His gaze moving from Dean’s eyes to his lips, to his collarbone and back to his eyes. Dean fell silent under this intense observation. His hand with the towel lowered. He wanted to cup Cas’ puzzled face and brush his dark eyelashes and cheekbones with his thumbs. If he could just kiss away the cuts, the bruises and the pain in his eyes…

‘It’s wrong, Dean,’ Cas suddenly said, breaking the trance Dean was in. ‘People hurting each other without any reason, it’s not right. They are mean and cruel and they don’t fight fair.’

Dean snapped. ‘That’s what incurable criminals do, Cas. It’s called natural selection. What did you expect when you got here? That we would all be singing songs together and settling arguments with dance battles? This isn’t Glee. This is St. Brutus. They’re settling the pecking order.’

Cas looked a little dumb. ‘Glee?’

Dean frowned. ‘Never mind.’

‘I want you to help me.’

‘I know you want that.’ Dean collected the towels. ‘But it ain’t gonna happen.’

‘You’re helping me now,’ said Cas. He handed him the cold towel, but didn’t let go. That managed to catch Dean’s eye. ‘I know you’re a good person, Dean.’

‘Shut up.’ Dean tore the towel out of his friend’s hands and flung them randomly into the bathroom. ‘I’m going to class.’

It was hard to say which of the two felt more frustrated with the other.

Dean hunted for his bag, grabbed his jacket and turned to go, but Cas didn’t like the idea of his friend leaving angry. He tried to stop him, but was too slow: his fingers only brushed Dean’s arm.

Dean’s stomach did something weird. He lingered.

‘Thank you,’ Cas said quietly.

He sounded immensely grateful. Dean couldn’t stand it. He’d hardly done anything for Cas. How fucked up was the help he got the rest of his life if he felt grateful for Dean’s haphazard first aid? He deserved the world, if you asked Dean, but then why did he get jack squat?

Dean hated the ways of life. ‘Yeah… whatever.’ The door slammed shut behind him.

The wall trembled and a corner of the picture of a car fell, revealing another poster behind it. Cas tilted his head and squinted his eyes.

That girl wasn’t wearing many clothes.


	3. Chapter 3

Cas woke up with a start from an extraordinarily loud noise. He opened his burning eyes and saw Nick leaning out of his bed to turn up the volume of a Fall Out Boy record.

Cas moaned. It was time to get up. Already. It felt like he didn’t get any sleep at all last night. When he wasn't distracted by the pain in his back and legs, and the wounds on his face, he was distracted by Dean. In both cases it was hell. The night seemed endless when you desperately wanted someone next to you.

 ...

‘Morning, Dean.’

Dean jumped, but hid it pretty well. He sighed. ‘Hey, Cas...’

Cas smiled, but Dean frowned and turned away. The last thing he needed was for other people to find out he liked the shabby weird guy. Nobody seemed to have noticed what Cas looked like up close. He was the cutest guy Dean had ever seen.

Cas did not give up easily. He trailed after Dean and asked him what class he had first. If anyone else had done what Cas did he would be in a lot of pain right about then, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not with Cas.

‘Please go away,’ he said in a tired voice.

Cas looked up at him, blinking his bright eyes. ‘Why, Dean?’

‘Because,’ Dean growled. ‘I. don’t. Want you. Around.’ His jaws hardly moved. ‘Now, beat it.’

‘But–...’

Dean walked off, leaving Cas in the middle of the hallway. He didn’t feel good about the way he treated his friend, but he left him no choice.

 ...

Cas turned on his heel and went to class. Stupid Dean. Stupid need of friends. Stupid heart.

Stupid Cas.

Why did Dean say he didn’t want him around? Cas wanted Dean to be around. All the time.

Cas walked straight passed some innocent guy who was being threatened and got his head beaten against the wall. They were minor injuries, he thought, compared to what he felt inside.

But why, why, was Dean so terribly nice to him when they were alone and so cruel when they weren’t? What was the matter? Was it Cas? Did he do something wrong? Was it really the defending of everyone? But why would that be bad? What did Dean even want? Who was the real Dean anyway? The private one, who was always finding ways to touch him, and looked at him like he was imagining Cas in his arms? Or the mean one, who didn’t even want to know him?   
How could he find out?

Right then Cas bumped into lean mean fighting machine number two. ‘Hello, Sam,’ Cas mumbled, trying to get past him and his group, and failing.

Sam pushed him hard, so Cas fell against the wall. He closed his eyes for a second and sighed. Didn’t one of the Winchesters hurt him, then the other one did.

‘I saw you talking with my brother,’ said Sam.

Cas didn’t react.

‘Well?!’ said Sam.

‘That wasn’t a question,’ whispered Cas puzzled, angering Sam even more.

‘What were you talking about to him? Why was he so nice to you?’

Cas frowned. Nice? That was nice? ‘I was just saying hello. And he told me to leave him alone.’

Sam pinned him hard against the wall with his hand round his throat. Cas choked. He wanted to cough, but couldn’t even breathe. He was just squeaking.

‘Why didn’t he hit you?!’ yelled Sam. ‘What is this thing you two have?!’

Cas, of course, couldn’t answer. This infuriated Sam.

‘ANSWER ME!’

Cas was saved when a passing security guard urged Sam to let Cas go in an instant. The group walked away quickly, but Sam cast one deadly look over his shoulder that made Cas jump.

Sam and Dean had a weird brotherly relationship, he concluded.

 ...

Cas thought about it all morning and at lunchbreak, and decided it would be best to confront Dean. He wanted answers. He deserved justice and respect and to be treated in a consistent way. That was, at least, what he kept telling himself as he gathered the courage, watching his friend from afar.

Dean was helping himself to a plate full of mac and cheese, drooling over the smell of melted cheese. He turned round and jumped.

‘Cas! What the hell, man! What did I tell you?’

‘Not to sneak up on you.’

‘Exactly!’ Dean started moving towards an empty table, but Cas didn’t leave his side and that freaked him out.

‘Dean, I need to talk to you.’

‘No, you don’t! Go away!’

Dean desperately tried to ignore his stupid friend, but how could he when he was so close that their shoulders touched.

Dean smacked his precious food on the table and pushed Cas away. ‘Now listen! If you don’t go, I’m gonna need to beat you up. Do you want that, or what?’

Dean seemed to have grown about a foot taller and swollen to the size of a small shed. Cas’ courage evaporated. ‘No,’ he said timidly. ‘But…’

‘No buts! Get out.’ Dean sat down and started eating as if nothing had happened.

‘Dean, I swear…!’ Cas got as close to him as he dared. ‘I want to talk to you. If not now, than later.’ And he walked away.

Meanwhile, Dean quietly hated himself. When he finished eating – before anyone else – he was so consumed in his own thoughts and feelings that he didn’t notice his own little brother crowding the doorway.

‘Trouble with your boyfriend?’ Sam sneered, only just loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean had sort of forgotten where he was and that hundreds of incurably criminal boys were around to watch his every move, waiting impatiently to see him fall, and to kick him when he was down. Before anyone could blink or knew what happened, Sam was pressed up high against the wall and Dean was screaming. ‘He’s not my boyfriend, you son of a bitch!’ He knew at once he shouldn’t have yelled those words through the school cafeteria, but that regret only fueled his anger. ‘Shut the fuck up!’

Sam pushed him away. He was probably the only one at the institute who could do that. ‘When will you learn to control yourself?’ he asked. ‘You’re such a hooligan! Will you ever learn to just talk?!’

Dean was so blinded by rage he didn’t see the security guards swarming over to them. ‘Don’t be a baby! You’ve always been such a cry baby, ever since you–…’

‘Were a baby?!’ Sam yelled. ‘That’s what kids do, Dean!’

Sam's friend kept trying to get to him, so he slammed one of them to the floor and punched another one out cold. All the while the guards yelled at him to calm down and to put his hands where they could see them.

Dean showed them his middle finger – and out came the taser… Just before it hit him Dean heard – to his own dread – a horrorstruck voice.

‘NO!’ yelled Cas.

 ...

Dean woke up in his own room, with a head ache like a thunderstorm. The door was locked; he didn’t bother to check, because he knew. He’d been in this situation a lot.

With a deep sigh, he rolled over. His stomach rumbled, so it must have been about four or five o’clock. Dean was always hungry around that time. Usually he begged the lunch lady for some leftovers and when he was particularly nice to her, she gave him something too. He knew he could forget it the coming week though. She didn’t like trouble makers when people should be enjoying her food. And really, Dean could relate to that. He couldn’t even remember what he was so uptight about anyway. It must have had something to with his idiot brother.

There were voices outside his room and a moment later Leo walked in.

Dean went into beggar’s mode at once. ‘Leo, buddy! How are you doing?’

Leo grabbed his books.

‘Hey, could you get me something? Something to eat, with meat or cheese or those delicious little–…’

The door shut behind his roommate. He was such a dick.

Dean fell back on his bed again. There was nothing to do. As usual, they took away all his stuff: his music and magazines and the dart board with the BB gun. They only left his school books. What could he do with school books, except for burning them?

Why did Leo go so fast? Now Dean had no one to even talk to…

He killed the time by pacing around his room, looking out of the window and doing pushups until finally – finally! – food arrived. The lunch lady came in with what was left of dinner. ‘Here you go sweetheart.’

‘Thanks,’ said Dean from the bottom of his heart. It smelled so good. ‘And… you know… sorry for making trouble, miss.’

The lunch lady ran her hand through his hair as if she were his mom. Dean didn’t mind: he was eating. ‘Try to behave. Wasn’t that your brother you were fighting with?’

Dean nodded, while stuffing his mouth.

The lady shook her head. ‘He’s your only family, kiddo. Why don’t you two get along?’

Dead didn’t reply. He respected the lunch lady for the food she made, but she shouldn’t interfere with his life. It was way too complicated.

The women went, but just before he could even finish his dinner, again a voice sounded at the other end of the door. It was probably Leo, Dean thought, so whatever… He wouldn’t be much fun. Usually he just made his homework at night with his headphones on and went to bed. Leo was a real paragon of virtue.

 ...

Cas nervously walked up to the guard standing next to the door. ‘Sir? C-can I go in?’

The guard shook his head. ‘No.’

‘But I need to speak to Dean, sir.’

‘He’s being punished, son. Friends are not allowed, you know that.’ The man smiled in hopes of cheering up the sad boy in front of him. It didn’t work.

Cas added a little desperation to his voice. ‘But we have to do this assignment. It’s due tomorrow. I can’t do it alone… I knew he was gonna be trouble, I knew it. Why did he go fighting, I tóld him how much work it is and how much I need a good grade–…’

‘Fine,’ sighed the guard. ‘Will you stop if I give you fifteen minutes?’

Cas looked relieved. ‘Yes.’

He opened a little shutter in the door.

Dean looked up at once. ‘Can I go out?’

‘No. Do you have an assignment to do tonight?’

He blinked stupidly. ‘No.’

Cas slammed his hand to his face. ‘I knew it! I knew he would forget! Typically Dean… He’s even dumber than he’s aggressive!’

‘Just get in,’ the guard sighed, opening the door. He was too old for this job. ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes!’

Cas almost skipped, but didn’t. ‘He can’t hurt me, right?’ he whispered to the guard. ‘If I yell, you let me out?’

‘Sure. You’re safe.’ The door slammed shut. Nobody saw the guard rolling his eyes.

Kids these days…

 ...

Dean’s mouth fell open. ‘Cas?’ He looked past his friend at the door, as if to see if no one was watching, or preparing an ambush.

‘Hello, Dean,’ said Cas quietly. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw his friend’s wide eyes.

Dean dropped his fork, jumped to his feet and pulled his arms around Cas’ shoulders. For a moment Cas froze. He just stood there, his arms next to his body, wondering what Dean was doing. Then he realized: it was a hug. He hadn’t had a hug in years. And here it was, from the last person he’d expect it from. Slowly, he put his arms round Dean’s waist. It felt good. He closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of Dean: clean clothes, mixed with something like cloves or licorice. His thumb stealthily stroked his back. He felt like he could stand like this forever, but Dean let go of him, just after tightening his grip a little.

‘You okay?’ he asked, softly touching Cas’ gashed lip. ‘Anything fresh I need to take care of?’ He grinned a little.

Cas took a deep breath. They were alone, so Dean was the nice version of himself again. He should really talk about this split personality, but it would ruin the moment. He only had fifteen minutes alone with him anyway. Who knew when the next chance he had with nice Dean would be?

Still, why couldn’t he be like this all the time?

‘Dean, I–...’

‘No,’ begged Dean annoyed. ‘Don’t go asking questions.’

‘But why–…’

‘Do you have any idea how many people in this school want to see my blood? How much pain I’ve cost people? I beat up everyone to get where I am now. And I mean everyone. Several times. They want revenge, all of them… And in walks this cute, pretty dork, who's able to talk to me without getting hurt. I do not allow anyone to talk to me or even get near me. So don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that you get away with touching me? Well?’

‘Yes, but–...’

‘Now, think about it,’ said Dean, stepping closer to Cas. ‘Imagine you got beaten up by me, more than once. You wanted to be the tough guy, but I destroyed you. Destroyed you. Your ego was crushed in front of everybody and there was no way you could get back to me and win. What would you then do if you saw me liking someone? If you saw me being close with someone? Someone who had zero ways of defending himself? Well? What would you do? Would you think: oh, look at them being happy, making friends! No! You wouldn’t. You would see revenge… That’s why they cannot find out I love you! You’re the perfect, easiest way of getting to me. They would kill you of they find out it would affect me!’ Dean stared at Cas as if he wanted to shake him with his gaze alone. ‘Capiche?’

Cas looked away, his eyes narrowed: the look Dean loved so much. There seemed to be a million noble thoughts and philosophical ideas about life, the universe and everything going around in his mind if he did that.

‘You’re right,’ concluded Cas.

‘Yes! Yes, I am! Thank you!’ Dean fell on the bed.

‘So I can’t talk to you, because people will kill me?’ Cas checked.

‘Exactly.’

‘Because you love me.’

Dean turned a little pink, scratched behind his ear and looked away. H-he'd said that, didn’t he?

Cas was watching him carefully. Dean cleared his throat. ‘Well… Now…’ He swallowed. He couldn’t talk himself out of that one, so he changed the subject. ‘What was that about an assignment?’

Cas sat down, in a formal kind of way. The way his friend moved alone amused Dean enormously.

‘Nothing,’ Cas answered. ‘I made that up.’

Dean’s eyes laughed. ‘You made something up? Isn’t that… unjust, or something?’

Cas frowned, puzzled. ‘No.’

‘Okay…’

Dean wished there was something casual he could do to touch his friend. He almost hoped there was more blood he could clean up or something.

‘Does it hurt?’ Cas asked.

‘What?’ When he fell from heaven?

‘What they did to you, with the electrics.’

‘Oh, well, yeah, but just for a while. Not anymore. I’m just bored now… Well, not now, not with you, but… but, you know…’

Cas bend to get his bag. ‘I got you something.’ He handed Dean a bag of cookies.

He got cookies. Someone actually went somewhere and took the trouble of getting him something they knew he would like. And he didn’t have to do anything in return. It made him feel... very, very weird.

Very weird indeed.

Fuck it. Fuck thinking of an excuse. Dean put the cookies on his pillow and wrapped his arms round his friend with such force Cas fell back onto the bed. Dean pressed his knees against Cas’ sides and buried his face in his neck, moaning ‘thank you’ and kissing him all over.

Cas felt a happiness he could hardly control.

Then the door opened, and in walked Leo. He looked very surprised.

Dean froze. He hid his face in Cas’ cute, old fashioned shirt, hoping Leo didn’t see them if he didn’t see Leo. His face glowed. This was bad. Slowly, he looked up, his fist still clenched round Cas’ shirt. ‘Hey, Leo... This is Cas. We’re working on an assignment.’

Leo raised just one eyebrow, sat down behind his desk and put on his headphones. ‘Let me guess,’ he mumbled. ‘Biology.’

Cas snorted with laughter, but Dean didn’t know what to think. He was too happy to think straight. Was it too late to pretend they were friends? Couldn't he just go on with what they were doing? It was so nice…

‘I’ll go,’ whispered Cas. Still a little awkwardly he touched Dean’s nose. ‘I’ll try not to get killed.’

Dean, half smiling, half annoyed, waved his hand away. ‘You do that.’

Cas laughed.

Just before he opened the door, Dean had a great urge to yell at him to stay. ‘Wait…’ He racked his brain for something to keep him up. ‘Here!’ His eye fell on one of the few possessions still around and he threw his jacket at Cas. ‘I-it’s cold outside.’

Cas forgot how to talk. Blissfully happy he put it on. Dean was so sweet. Cas did have to walk outside in the cold for almost a minute before he reached his own building opposite Dean’s.


	4. Chapter 4

Something was off. Dean knew he’d been late again this morning and missed Cas at the lockers, but he would have expected to see him somewhere around the school by lunch break. Usually he saw him walking around or getting something from his locker at least once. And after yesterday…

Or did he take Dean’s advice actually serious and did he avoid him for his own safety? Dean could get into that. It was a smart move. But it was nothing like the way he came to know his friend at all. Cas looked danger square in the eye – stupidly – and would try to find ways to get to Dean without attracting attention. Probably failing miserably, but still.

Now, there Dean was: alone again. Like Cas didn’t even go to St. Brutus.

He filled his plate, secretly looking around for a shabby-dressed, little uneasy, quite damaged boy. He didn’t see him.

What mattered more: he failed to see a really tall guy with a group of vicious looking kids either. The ladle in Dean’s hand hung still for more than a second when the pieces fell into place in his mind.

‘Hey–,’

‘Ssh.’

‘Fuck, sorry, Dean. Take your time.’

Dean pushed the guy hard into a nearby table – he hated lickspittles – but hardly noticed. He stamped through the school looking around for his brother or his friends, but found no trace of them.

A locker door slammed shut with more force than needed and Dean recognized one of Sammy’s friends. As soon as the boy saw Dean he tried to back out, but Dean blocked his way.

‘Where’s Sam?’

The kid looked rather angry. ‘They’re gone. On a roadtrip. Like a bunch of boy scouts…’

‘Where’d they go?’

‘Some weird name. Poughkeepsie. Who even goes there? I’m glad they didn’t ask me. Losers.’

Dean just sent the kid a look, but didn’t bother telling him how pathetic he was. His mind was racing: Poughkeepsie was code word for the abandoned place he used to meet Sam when they were in trouble or had an argument to fight out.

He knew Sam’s friend was left behind with a reason. Dean knew he was meant to find out where Sam was through that friend. He knew this was a trick to get to Dean. But above all, he knew they had Cas. And that they wouldn’t mind hurting him, or even killing him, if they got annoyed. On purpose or by accident, it didn’t matter. He’d lose the only person he ever felt close to. Trap or not: he was not going to let that happen. Sam was his brother. He could argue his way out of this situation. The two of them were the only family they had left and, like the lunch lady said, they really should get along.

But, man, he wished they didn’t use Cas. That guy’d gone through enough already at this institute. Was there even more skin to bruise, more scars to make? What would they do to him?

He could have gone without bothering about any of the school rules, like Sammy’d probably done, but why would he if there was a much easier way out? He rubbed his face and his eyes until they were red and burning and walked into the caretaker’s office. ‘I’m sick,’ he sniffled. ‘Can I go to bed?’

The caretaker checked his absence records – which were pretty good – and let him go. Dean never really skipped classes. He didn’t have much else to do. He didn’t have money to spend or friends to see, and girls would be in school when he was supposed to, so what’s the point?

He did have a car though. A priceless Impala he inherited from his dad. That car was without a doubt the most beautiful thing in the entire world. It was his most precious possession and came in handy at moments like these. For a second he wondered how Sam went on a roadtrip when he didn’t have a car or a license, but he probably used some older kid to drive them all. Sam always used other people to take care of things he couldn’t handle himself. The loser.

So off Dean went, in the old Impala, whistling _The Weight_ as he enjoyed the sound of his baby’s engine.

 ...

Sam paced up and down the smelly, grey halls of the deteriorated building he had such bad memories of. When Sam was four, Dean used to go here whenever he wanted to be alone. For some weird reason he always took Sam with him, so Sam had to enjoy himself while Dean sulked, and whatever he did pissed Dean off enormously. Then, when Sam got older, Dean used to force him to meet him here whenever he wanted to argue. Foster parents or orphanage leaders always got in between when Dean and Sam had a fight – they were like two forces of nature collapsing when they argued – but in here they could bicker as much as they wanted. That used to come down to Dean beating the crap out of Sam, because his stupid brother had no self-control and huge anger issues. When he was ten, Sam started to look for ways to defeat Dean, but never really succeeded.

Until today.

He’d had his suspicions about the new kid ever since Dean stood up for him when Sam tried to beat it up. That was a weird thing to do. Then he saw them together, which was bizarre, because Dean never talked to anyone, not even to Sam. This kid could greet Dean and Dean would greet back. And this morning, to top it all off… the new kid was wearing his tough brother’s jacket.

‘How did you get that?’ asked Sam, still pacing in front of the chair the boy was tied to. He just couldn’t wrap his mind about what was going on. Why was his brother nice to this guy? ‘Did you steal it? Did you intimidate him? What did you do?!’

The guy looked away. Something was off about him. He was quiet and different than the other guys at school. He didn’t have this killer look in his eyes and never bothered to defend himself properly. It was as if he didn’t want to fight. But why would he mingle with fights if he didn’t want to fight?

He didn’t answer any of Sam’s questions though. It was annoying as fuck. Sam grabbed the guy’s shoulders. ‘Answer me! Where did you get it?’

He still wouldn’t answer.

Sam was determined not to be like his older brother and restrained himself to the fullest. When Dean got here Sam could go loose on the boy, but not yet. Not now. It wouldn’t have a purpose if Dean didn’t watch.

Sam sighed. He sat down on the floor opposite the pale kid and thought. ‘What’s your name anyway?’

‘Cas.’

‘Do you like Dean?’

Silence. Sam waited, staring intensely at Cas.

‘Yes...’ the kid said.

Sam nodded. ‘Does Dean like you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘You “don’t know”?’ said Sam with a wide grin, exaggerating his articulation. ‘You talk weird.’

Cas looked away. He seemed a little angry.

‘You mad, bro?’ asked Sam, laughing. He loved making people angry. The echo in the empty building made his laugh sound evil.

‘He won’t come,’ said Cas.

‘Shut up,’ said Sam. ‘He will.’

‘He’ll know it’s a trap.’

Sam looked up. ‘Would he?’

That was interesting.

‘So you’re saying he will find out we took you? Now, why would he think we took you to trap him, if he doesn’t care about you? Except… if he does.’

Now his grin got really evil. He knew it. He knew something weird was going on.

‘What did you do? Did you bribe him? Blackmail him? Do something for him?’

‘Ew, that’s gross,’ said his friend, who was guarding the door.

Sam rolled his eyes. He actually meant getting him food or something. Dean was a sucker for food.

‘I didn’t do anything,’ Cas grumbled. ‘Why is it so weird he’d–…’ He instantly closed his mouth.

‘He’d whát?’ Sam leaned so closed to him he could smell the musty stank of his dad’s old jacket, now worn by this unworthy dork.

The sound of an engine made him jump.

‘He’s here,’ said the friend guarding the window.

‘I knów,’ growled Sam. ‘Take your places.’

‘Are you gonna do ballet?’ said Cas sarcastically, just before Sam slammed duct tape over his mouth.

 ...

Dean walked up to the abandoned office like Gandalf entering Dol Guldur: expecting an ambush any moment. He slid through a hole in the fence surrounding the area around the building. He ignored the “warning: asbestos” signs, dived under the yellow caution-tape and into the doorless, concrete building. His footsteps echoed when he stepped into what once was a fancy lobby. Only the desk remained, but the varnish was cracked and the chord on the ancient phone was cut.

Dean knew from experience that the staircase lead only to debris, since the roof had partially collapsed and taken the top floor with it. Only the ground floor remained. Dean loved the thrill of being there. It could collapse under its own weight any minute.

The only way left to go was through a door on the right, into the back office. He went in, checking every inch of the completely empty hall. The only thing he saw was his buddy Cas: silenced with a piece of tape… and wearing Dean’s jacket.

He hurried towards him. ‘Stupid asshole.’ He took the tape from his mouth. ‘Why are you wearing that thing! I wárned you.’

‘Dean, it’s a trap.’ Cas’ eyes darted to some point above Dean’s shoulder and widened in fear. Dean turned round just in time to see Sam’s two friends jumping on him. He had a split second to prepare himself and with one punch he hit one of them out cold. He tackled the other so he slammed flat on his back, but then–…

‘Dean,’ sounded a tiny voice.

Dean whirled round. Sam was standing behind Cas, pressing a knife on Cas’ throat. A small drip of blood was already welling up on his pale, bruised skin.

‘You wanna kill him?’ Dean said.

Sam just smiled.

‘You wouldn’t.’ But Dean wasn’t too sure. Defeated, he held out his hands. The friend who wasn’t lying unconscious on the floor took a tie wrap, put Dean on a chair and locked his wrists together behind his back. Now he and Cas were sitting next to each other in the dark, grey hall, while his brother circled around them.

‘What are you doing, Sammy?’ asked Dean, sounding tired.

Sam crossed his arms, still smiling like a lunatic. ‘Admit it. I got you.’

‘Wow, yes, you and all your friends managed to get me, by using an innocent kid to force me. You’re a real champ, Sammy.’

Sam hit him in the face. For a moment Dean couldn’t hear anything over the pain in his head.

‘–call me Sammy!’

‘I’ll call you all I want, bitch.’

‘Jerk!’

Dean smiled. It felt good to have some certainty in life and one of the few things that remained consistent during theirs was the fact that whenever Sam called Dean a jerk, Dean called Sam a bitch, and the other way round. It was a small kind of comfort.

Sam didn’t seem to see it that way, though. ‘Why do you always call me that?! What did I even do to you?’

‘Really?’ asked Dean, sounding even more tired. ‘You got through all this trouble to have a family talk?’

‘I’ll torture you later,’ snarled Sam.

Dean laughed.

‘Or maybe I’ll just torture your weird friend.’

Dean froze. ‘No, no...’ he moaned. ‘He’s got nothing to do with this.’

Suddenly Sam had a knife. Where he got it from, nobody knew – and he walked towards Cas. ‘What do you think he could miss?’ he asked. ‘An ear?’ He cut Cas’ skin next to his ear.

‘Ouch,’ said Cas, trying, and failing, to back away. A thick line of blood dripped down his jaw.

‘Stop it, Sam.’

Sam walked around the chair. ‘Or maybe… a finger.’

‘Sam!’ warned Dean in the most terrifying voice he could manage. He knew it wouldn’t work though. He had to think of a distraction. Verbally distracting Sam always worked better than aggression anyway. ‘If you’re mad at me, be mad at me! What’s your problem anyway?!’

Sam threw his knife away, seemingly random, but it stuck in the wood of the chair only a millimeter away from Dean’s skin.

‘Hey,’ frowned Dean. ‘Watch it with that thing. You could poke an eye out.’

Sam leaned on the chair’s armrests, looking fumingly mad. ‘What’s my problem?! How about: being abused by my only brother my whole childhood? Having him fuck me up while I was trying so hard to get close to him! But him not giving me a chance at all! Him refusing to let me in from the start!’

Dean sighed. ‘Sammy…’

‘Don’t Sammy me, Dean! You have always – always – seen me as your retard brother, and that hurt! I am smarter than you! I am stronger than you! I am more terrifying than you and you should know it! The only reason you could handle me was because I was younger! And because I let you! And you know why I let you?!’ Sam’s voice went through the roof by now. ‘WELL?!’

Dean said nothing.

‘Because I thought,’ whispered Sam, ‘I deserved it.’

A large silence fell over the room. Dean couldn’t look at his brother.

Cas watched the two of them with large, round eyes, trying to figure out what was going on.

‘But I didn’t deserve it, did I?’ Sam went on. ‘I never did anything other kids didn’t – or that you didn’t.’

‘Sam, shut up! Enough, okay? You’re being pathetic!’

‘HOW?!’ screamed Sam. ‘How am I being pathetic?!’

‘I was trying to raise you! You’re acting like you’re the victim here, like you’re so miserable and sad and everyone should feel sorry for you! Well, newsflash: that’s life! Don’t you think I would have loved to be raised in a happy, caring family? Don’t you think I would have liked to be brought to soccer practice every Saturday morning, instead of looking out for my stupid baby brother, just so he wouldn’t die too?! But that wasn’t for us. Because our mom had to ran back upstairs to get to you! And you don't even remember! You don’t know anything about what happened that night and to be honest you have no idea how happy I am that you don’t! Because I do! Every little detail! How mum threw you at my dad, because she saw the room collapsing. And how my dad caught you while screaming mom’s name! How he pushed you in my arms! Mine! How he said, “Take care of your brother,” and ordered me to run out of the house while he ran back into the fire to save mum. And I never saw them back! I was síx, Sammy, and holding a baby in the front yard of a burning house, while our parents died before my eyes! Because they felt the need to save you! You ungrateful, whiny son of a bitch. So don’t come to me with your sad little story of how your brother did the best he could to keep you alive.’ Dean cussed and looked away.

Sam got a worn-down desk chair and rolled it in front of Dean.

‘But of course,’ he said, ‘you never felt the need to share any of this. I was of course supposed to know it all by myself, even though I was only a baby when it happened. And why would you possibly share such traumatic memories with the only family you have, ay, Dean? When you’re obviously doing so well holding it all in and letting off steam every once in a while by beating up that same family? That’s obviously a much better strategy. I can see that now. You’re right; I am a whiny little baby.’

Dean looked daggers at him.

‘Is that what you want to hear, Dean?’ Sam shot the daggers back. ‘I… am so… fed up with you. I feel so... much... anger... when I look at you.’

Somehow, that hurt Dean more than anything. After everything he had done, everything that happened to them, he still somehow expected Sam to like him.

‘I haven’t hurt you in two years,’ he tried. ‘Only if you made me. I never wanted you to get hurt, that’s why I got so frustrated. Why can’t you understand? I was trying to do what dad told me. I know now it was wrong what I did. But I was a kid myself.’

Suddenly Cas opened his mouth. ‘And a very troubled kid.’

‘Stay out of it,’ said both Sam and Dean. Cas looked away.

‘Enough,’ said Sam quietly. ‘I don’t care how you think now. You’re not getting away with it that easily.’ He pulled the knife out of the chair and grabbed it more firmly. ‘Not before I’ve hurt you as much as you’ve hurt me. But I’ll make it easy for you. I’m going to give you all the pain at once.’ He smiled without love. ‘Want to say anything before I start, and you faint, because you’re a weak ass cry baby?’

‘Yes, I want to say…’ said Dean, ‘bring it on.’

‘Dean,’ begged Cas, but Dean was busy challenging Sam with his eyes.

Sam hardly needed challenging. Sometimes he felt like he was born with an otherworldly rage pumping through his veins. ‘I know how to skin,’ he said quietly. His voice sent a shiver down Dean’s spine. ‘I practiced on animals.’

‘Urgh!’ uttered Dean shocked. ‘You’re sick!’ He seriously created a monster.

‘Anyway… I think I’ll start on… Your chest or your back? You choose.’

Dean jammed his jaws together. He was never going to answer that.

‘Right. Chest is more practical I think.’

He put the knife behind the collar of Dean’s simple black tee and cut it in half. Then he took the knife and made the first cut in Dean’s skin. Dean closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breath instead of the bloodcurdling pain he knew he was about to get. He wished Sam wouldn’t have the guts to do this to him, but he knew he had.

Suddenly a pain so immense shot through his spine. His whole body seemed to be on fire, though it was really only his chest that was burning. His fists tried to break through the tie-wraps, the ropes grated his ankles.

‘Sam,’ he begged, panting through the pain that seemed to dominate his entire brain.

Sam didn’t even waver. Dean heard himself scream in pain as his skin was slowly being peeled off.

‘AAAAH! No! Sammy!’

Sam stopped for a second to grin menacingly. ‘You had enough?’

‘Please, stop...’ gasped Dean. The pain had put tears in his eyes.

Sam laughed and put his knife on Dean’s skin for the third time. ‘It’s gonna be shaped like a heart.’

‘AAAAAH!’

Suddenly, a crash sounded through the hall. Sam stopped, and Dean, too, opened his watering eyes.

Cas was standing. The crashing sound had come from the chair breaking. Two of the chairlegs were still attached to his ankles with rope, but the rest of the chair fell to the floor in pieces. Sam, Dean and Sam’s confederate watched in astonishment as Cas broke the tiewraps around his wrists by pure force. He had a look on his face that Dean had never seen on anyone. It was like his friend’s mind was gone and everything that was left was cold fury. Dean had never been this scared of someone in his entire life.

The conscious one of Sam’s friends bravely ran towards Cas, but before he could even touch him, they saw the kid flying through the room. The walls trembled when the guy crashed into them. Cas was panting like mad. He looked like he wanted to kill.

Then he threw himself at Sam.

‘Cas!’ Dean yelled, helplessly stuck in his chair. ‘He doesn’t have to be dead! Cas! QUIT IT!’

But Cas kept beating, beating, beating, until Sam wasn’t much more than a bundle of blood.

Dean took a few breathes to calm himself, and put up the most soothing voice he could manage. ‘Cas, buddy, he’s my brother. Look at me, baby.’

Cas froze.

‘Please, stop.’

Cas was still panting, but his shoulders seemed to lower just a little. He looked down on his gory, seemingly-lifeless victim, and slowly, his face changed. He watched his hands and a look of terror appeared in his eyes. Quickly, he climbed off Sam’s body and backed away. Then, he started hyperventilating.

‘I did it again,’ he squeaked. ‘Oh my god, I killed him. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I did it again. I did it again. I killed him. I’m a monster. I’m a monster.’

‘Ssh, Cas, calm down. He’s not dead, look.’

Indeed, Sam was making noises. His fingers moved. His feet moved.

‘I’m so sorry,’ whispered Cas through his own hysterical breathing.

Dean laughed. ‘He had it coming.’ He felt really relieved. He didn’t quite know why: his brother was a mess and Cas was a mess and he himself was a mess. His chest was throbbing and bleeding like mad, and he was still tied up in this rotten chair. Still, he felt like a big burden had fallen off of his shoulders.

Sam got to his feet and stumbled to his posse on the floor. ‘You’re crazy,’ he told Cas as he slapped and shook his friends to wake them up. ‘He’s crazy.’ And he and his friends hurried away. Dean laughed as they ran.

Cas curled up against the wall and hid his face in his arms.

‘Talk to me, baby,’ said Dean.

‘Don’t call me that. I’m a monster. I’m a monster.’

‘Yeah, I got that the first time.’

‘This is why I went to jail...’

‘For beating up Sam?’

‘No… My dad used to hit my mom; beat her up. One night I couldn’t stand it anymore. I can’t remember what happened, but next thing I knew I was holding a human eye, and my father was scattered through the kitchen in pieces. My mom sat in a corner, terrified. She never got over it. Never even looked at me again. I’m a monster. A monster. I’m so sorry.’

‘I think you’re an angel,’ said Dean. ‘Now, cut me loose, I’ve had enough of this.’

Cas looked up. There were tears in his eyes. ‘How can you say that? You saw what I did!’

‘You beat up a really bad man. Twice. Now, you could probably work on your anger management, but look who’s talking. I don’t think you’re a monster. Sam skinned defenseless animals to practice: he is a monster. You protect people. Maybe a bit too viciously, but still. Less like a monster, if you ask me.’

Cas brushed his face with his hands. He sighed a deep, deep sigh. ‘You’re unbelievable...’

Dean refrained himself from saying: ‘No, you’re unbelievable!’ like some tacky couple – but he wanted to. To be honest, he thought it was awesome what happened. Cas wasn’t the helpless, fragile little boy he thought he was. He was insanely strong. ‘Where did you get so strong? I didn’t know you were hiding muscles underneath that raincoat.’ He laughed.

‘Oh, shut up,’ moaned Cas. He got up and picked up the knife Sam dropped, to cut Dean loose from the tie wraps. ‘I beat up your brother. Your only brother. That’s bad. I’m so, so sorry… Now you know. I’m a monster.’

Dean had enough. As soon as his hands and legs were free he got up to cup Cas’ face. ‘Stop it, I forgive you. I think you’re awesome. I love what you did, it was beautiful. As long as you have me to stop you in time, nothing bad will ever happen and you will only do incredibly good things. I promise. _I promise_.’

Cas was still looking more worried, tense and sad than ever. ‘I’m a mo–...’

Dean didn’t know what else to do. He kissed him. That shut Cas up. And it felt good.

‘Come on...’ Looking around to check if no one was around, Dean took Cas’ hand. ‘Let’s go somewhere private.’


End file.
